


Inked

by AHumanFemale



Series: Skin Deep [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Body Modification, Body Worship, M/M, Romantic Filth, Smut, ends fluffy, sonny is always always bisexual, surprise tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHumanFemale/pseuds/AHumanFemale
Summary: Stepping through the door, his mouth was already open to launch into his tirade.It stayed open.But not a single noise came out.Carisi stood to the side, locker door open and eyes wide.Shirt open.Shirt off.Mostly.One arm was in its sleeve but the rest of the shirt was hanging from his body.  His pale, bare body.  The body with more muscle than Rafael has previously imagined, toned and slender from the shallow valley between his pectorals to the deep slant of his hipbones.  Ridges of sinew in between that made every word he’d imagined lobbing at Carisi fly from his head.The most shocking image, of course, was the tattoo covering the expanse of his ribcage and curling around his chest.





	Inked

**Author's Note:**

> A parallel, mostly unrelated companion piece to Pierced. Part II of the Skin Deep series. More to come!

 

Rafael is livid the first time he sees it.

The chain of custody on the Houston case was missing two very significant links, both of which were crucial to the case he would be presenting in the morning.  Both of which were also the responsibility of one “Detective Dominick Carisi Jr.”, if the hastily scribbled signature on the file was to be believed.  And Rafael did believe it.  Particularly since he made himself familiar with that particular scrawl a long time ago, primarily against his wishes and eventually because…

No reason.

The squadroom was bustling when he charged in.  It was earlier in the morning already, certainly too early for his blood pressure to be as high as it was.  Liv’s office door was closed and he could just make her out through the blinds, frowning into the phone.  Something he could worry about later.  Much later, if possible.  Fin was nowhere to be scene, neither was his intended target.  The only poor soul available to him was Detective Rollins, focusing hard on her work.  Were he in a better mood, he might have been compelled to regret his interruption.

As it was, he stopped in front of her desk with a sour frown and a distinct lack of patience. 

“Where is he?”

“Who’s that, counselor?” Rollins asked, not bothering to look up from her laptop screen.  He didn’t know if he should be comforted or annoyed that his brusque demeanor no longer fazed her.

“Carisi,” he replied, huffing impatiently.

“He in hot water?”

“To say the least.  Where is he?”

“Perp spilled coffee on him this morning.  He’s in the locker rooms, changing,” she told him and maybe he should have paid more attention to her wry grin but it was too late.  

Rafael was pissed off at having a case jeopardized for a stupid reason and he was pissed off that Carisi hadn’t been answering his phone all morning and he was  _ extra  _ pissed off that he’d had to resort to coming down to the precinct at all when his original plan had only included shaming the detective into doing the leg work for him.  The speech brewing in his head would serve to remedy all those goals, would surely have Carisi raising his arms in surrender and promising it would never happen again, and Rafael was so sure of himself when he knocked on the locker room door and heard Carisi’s answering grunt of acknowledgment.

Stepping through the door, his mouth was already open to launch into his tirade.

It stayed open.

But not a single noise came out.

Carisi stood to the side, locker door open and eyes wide.  

Shirt open.  

Shirt  _ off _ . 

Mostly.  

One arm was in its sleeve but the rest of the shirt was hanging from his body.  His pale, bare body.  The body with more muscle than Rafael has previously imagined, toned and slender from the shallow valley between his pectorals to the deep slant of his hipbones.  Ridges of sinew in between that made every word he’d imagined lobbing at Carisi fly from his head. 

The most shocking image, of course, was the tattoo covering the expanse of his ribcage and curling around his chest. 

It was a stark contrast of deep black and vivid color, foliage and floral and intricate script.  Names.  His family members, all on a different flower with their own corresponding colors.  A garden of uncolored flowers were spread at its lower edge.  Waiting to be filled, Rafael could guess.  More family members still to be discovered because Carisi was sentimental like that and would be certain of their existence.  Wife, children.  Knowing Carisi’s devout Catholic upbringing, he would run out of room with children alone.  Speaking of Catholic… since when do good Catholic boys cover themselves in tattoos?  

Did he have more?

Where were they?

Could he possibly trace every inch of them, every curling leaf and lush petal, first with his fingers and then with his tongue?

Rafael swallowed hard, eyes slowly making their way up to Carisi’s face.

Carisi’s mouth, quirked up in amusement.

Carisi’s cheeks, ever so slightly flushed.

Carisi’s eyes, dilated in obvious interest.

Wait, what?

Rafael licked his lips.

Carisi did too.

“Can I help you with something counselor?” he asked, amused.  It would have come across as cocky had the barest hint of breathiness not managed to sneak in.

“The Houston case.”

Goddamn it, he sounded winded.

“Yeah?” the man in front of him asked, still neglecting to put on the rest of his shirt.  “What about it?”

“Missing chain of evidence for his tie,” Rafael answered blankly.  “The one with the victim’s saliva on it.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in that file you’re holding.”

“It’s not.”

“Have you checked?”

“Yes, Carisi.  I checked.  I checked multiple times while calling you repeatedly and then checked some more on my way over when you neglected to answer your phone.”

At least now he’d managed to sound annoyed.

Which he was supposed to be.

Not flustered.

Not plagued with a potentially lethal curiosity.

Not forcing his eyes to stay on Carisi’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.  Hold on,” he said, sparing Rafael another smirk before resuming dressing.  “Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.”

Rafael nodded and turned, maybe letting his gaze dip lower for a split second, and reaching for the door handle.  

“Unless you feel like sticking around for the rest of the show, anyway.”

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t dare.

Carisi would see, he knew he would.

“Hurry up, detective.  I don’t have all day.”

He closed the door behind him, Carisi’s dark chuckle echoing in his ears. 

 

**…**

 

The second time he saw it, it was because he couldn’t help himself.

The image had been seared into his mind, taunting and tempting and too goddamn hot for his exceedingly rational mind to process.  Of all the things he had expected that day, a half naked detective with a surprising bit of body modification hadn’t been on the list.  

That was two weeks ago.

Two weeks of torture, of feeling his eyes drawn to Carisi’s side.  Even under shirts and undershirts and waistcoats and suit jackets.  Like he would be able to see it again if he concentrated enough.  Like his memory wasn’t enough.  It had been playing those long minutes on repeat almost constantly.  Almost always at inopportune times, like when he should be snarking at him.  When he should be mocking him.  Instead that maze of color flashes behind his eyes and he looks away, pretending Carisi’s smirk doesn’t make his situation even worse.

His situation being feelings.

Feelings that were decidedly  _ not  _ annoyance.

Not dismissal.

Not even patient condescension.  

Feelings that were soft.

Soft like the pink of Carisi’s lips, constantly drawing his eyes.

Soft like the brush of their hands for seemingly no reason at all.

And now he had this tattoo - this facet of Carisi he’d never considered, never could have dreamed up in all his extensive fantasies.  Carisi the good Catholic boy, the dutiful student and eager detective.  The man, Rafael admitted, who had managed to come across as mostly innocent in the years of their acquaintance.  In fact, he’d never seen a hint of untoward behavior from Carisi until those few minutes in a locker room.  Alone.  Blue eyes wide, focused so intently on Rafael until he had no choice but to question if the straight detective wasn’t so straight after all.

That look in his eyes made sense in that moment.

It went with the tattoo perfectly.

Artful but hedonistic.

Willing to suffer, to endure, to get what he wanted.

Rafael shivered, feeling an emphatic twitch behind his zipper.

A twitch he would have to ignore, at least for the moment, while Liv complained about jury selection for the Houston case.  Rafael agreed, of course, like he usually did when it came to his closest friend.  A race-related case without a single member of the minority group in question on the jury was more than suspect.  The conversation would already be skewed, long before he uttered a single syllable on the courtroom floor.  

“Well,” she sighed, letting herself recline in the chair a few feet away, “I guess it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “It is.”

Liv shook her head.

Her dark hair was already pulled back, a sure sign she was done for the day.

“Are you heading home soon?” she asked, standing.  

“As soon as I finish my opening statements,” he assured her, knowing the pinched lines at the corner of her mouth were a blatant statement of her concern.  “I assume Noah is waiting for you?”

The smile lit her up.

“An hour left before bedtime.”

He smiled.  

“You’d better hurry.”

Liv nodded.

“I think I will.  Goodnight, Barba.”

“Goodnight, Liv.”

She barely had time to make it to the door before another knock sounded.  Once with a quick, familiar cadence.  

That damn twitch was back.

This had changed from an annoyance to an affliction.

“Carisi,” Liv said, surprised as she opened the door to her most junior detective.  “You’re here late.”

“Yeah, just had some extra files for Barba.”

“Good,” she said, standing aside to let Carisi come in.  “You two have fun with that.  I’ve got a toddler waiting for me.”

“Have a good night, Lieu,” Carisi said genuinely and Liv nodded in acknowledgment before shutting the door behind her.  

Alone again.

For the first time in two long weeks.

“I didn’t ask for any files,” Rafael pointed out.

“Good, because these are empty.”

He did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“We need to talk, Barba,” he replied, coming to stand in front of Rafael’s desk.  His hands on his hips, jacket pushed to the side.  His shield glinting from its place on his hip.  The grip on his pen tightened.

Rafael was a weak man.

“If this is about the  _ voir dire _ , I’ve already heard it from Liv.”

“You wish this was about a jury.”

Well, then.

“I’m listening,” he offered, setting his pen down and crossing his arms over his chest.  

His eyes flitted down.

He couldn’t help it at this point.

Rafael was a weak man.

“That’s what I want to talk about,” Carisi said, eyes sparkling. Not in anger, thankfully.  Rafael knew perfectly well how straight men viewed being objectified by other men but it didn’t look like Carisi minded at all.

“Do I owe you an apology, detective?” he asked.

“No.”  He grinned.  “I was thinking, though.  You seem to be all bent out of shape about it and I did make your life harder a while back…”

Harder?

An understatement.

Not that he would admit it.

“If you mean the chain of custody-”

“I don’t.”

Rafael smirked.

“I won’t argue,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair.  “It was… surprising.  To say the least.”

“I lost a bet in the academy,” Carisi explained.  “Figured if it was going to happen I might as well make it something I like.  Something meaningful.”

“Wise of you,” he replied, nodding.  “But you don’t owe me an explanation, Carisi.”

“I’m not here for an explanation,” he said and that look was back in his eyes.  The one that promised torment and bliss in equal measure.  “I’m here to ask if you wanted to see it again.”

Rafael sucked in a quick breath.

He was a weak man.

His voice betrayed him, deep and obviously affected.

“And if I did?”

“Here I am,” he told him and it was a dare.

Cocky shit.

Rafael stood, taking his time as he walked around the width of his desk and settled again on the front of it.  Ass against the edge, Carisi in front of him.  Closer than he’d ever been in years.  Even with Carisi’s lack of boundaries, his stubborn refusal to acknowledge personal space.  Now the taller man threatened to lean closer, clearly wanting to crowd him.  Wanted to be close enough for his heat to seep into Rafael’s bones and his cologne to drift into his nose.  

The jacket was pushed from Carisi’s shoulders, falling to the floor with hardly a whisper.

Rafael reached for the waistcoat first.

Parted the buttons, tried to ignore the steady rise and fall of Carisi’s chest as he worked.  It fell on top of the jacket.  Next was his tie, something muted and striped and completely unimaginative but for the moment it was merely an obstacle.  Something for Rafael to dispose of, loosening the knot and pulling the length of slim fabric from his neck to drop at his side.  Carisi was quiet - surprisingly so.  This may have been the longest his tongue had ever been still and Rafael found himself relishing the silence.  Not because he didn’t like the sound of Carisi’s voice.  It was because in the silence he was able to hear every breath, every quick gasp as Rafael released buttons and brushed bare skin.  

Thin cotton parted, heated flesh beneath.

Warmed pink.

Leaning ever so slightly into his touch.

Rafael reveled in it.

“You constantly surprise me, detective,” he told Carisi, voice soft and surprisingly steady considering the slight shake in his fingers.  “Your empathy, your intuition.  Your intelligence.  Your willingness to let me undress you in my office.”

When his eyes landed on the swirls of bright color and dark ink, the persistent twitch between his legs morphed into an intoxicating throb.  He reached out, unable to help himself.  Touching first the delicate pink rose closest to his heart.  His mother’s name, in black over the baby pink.  His father next, Dominick Sr.  What looked like a tomato, which made him smile.  

His father must garden.  

Carisi was a living canvas, dedicated to the people he loved.  His sisters each had their own space on his body, their own hue.  A newer name, the bright daisy more vivid than the rest.  His niece, Rafael suspected.  He thought of the unfilled flowers low on his hip and traced them too, trying to imagine the names that would fill them.  If any negative thoughts managed to well up then they were soon swept aside as Carisi broke out in chills, his hips tilting forward into Rafael’s touch.  It was the first act of active participation he’d noticed and it seemed to be a compulsion rather than something he’d planned on doing.

Giving into his own impulse, Rafael left the tattoo for the sake of dragging his fingers across Carisi’s waist.  Gooseflesh welled up and scattered across pale skin.  Carisi was hard, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks.  Rafael wanted to touch, wanted to map his length for himself but he didn’t have permission. 

“Barba,” Carisi breathed and the sound went straight to his cock.  He’d almost forgotten his own desire in the process of stoking his partner’s.  “Do I need to lock the door?”

“Do you want to?”

Carisi didn’t answer.

Just stepped away, shirt open and chest bare, and covered the distance between Rafael’s desk and the door in a few long strides.  The sound of the lock clicking into place seemed to echo but the thrill in his blood prevented him from feeling even an ounce of uncertainty.  Not when Carisi appeared so eager and unmistakably hard - looking at Rafael like he was holding onto composure by a thread.  Rafael found himself hoping the thread snapped.

Carisi, out of control.

Desperate.

Undone.

He  _ throbbed _ .

“Get in the chair,” he heard himself order, voice rougher than usual.  Carisi complied instantly, because of course he did.  Carisi had never met an order he didn’t jump to follow.  He paused for only a moment, undoubtedly feeling some resistance to the idea of sitting in a chair that Rafael would normally kill him for occupying.  

The order won out.

He sat down and looked at Rafael with hungry eyes, eyes determined to keep jetting between Rafael’s face and the pronounced bulge beneath his fly.  

Later.

Rafael was a weak man, but he wasn’t that weak.

He could wait.

Eyes held fast to Carisi’s, Rafael sank to his knees between Carisi’s legs.

Supplicating.

For all his bluster and bravado, it felt right.

“I want to touch you, Carisi.”

The detective nodded.

“Yeah.”

“May I?”

He nodded again.  

Enthusiastically.

“You’re perfect, do you know that?” Rafael asked as Carisi’s eyes flickered down to watch him slowly release his belt.  If he had a response, it wasn’t forthcoming.  “Lean, strong.  Tall.  Shoulders worthy of sculpture, hips worthy of my bruises.”

Carisi murmured a broken  _ fuck _ .

“I’ve spent years admiring you.  From afar, obviously,” he continued.  He pried loose the button of Carisi’s fly and parted the zipper.  Hips arched up minutely, patient to a point that the man was rapidly approaching.  “Wondering what was beneath your clothes, the long lines you wear so well.  Who could have guessed you were hiding something so intriguing from me.”

“Not hiding it,” Carisi moaned as Rafael took hold of him, hot skin taut and so solid in his grip.  “You never asked.”

“How would I have known to, Carisi?”  

He stroked upward, sending Carisi’s eyes rolling back.  

“The way-  _ shit _ , the way I look at you.”

“And how is that?”

“Like I want you,” his victim replied, hissing through teeth clenched.  “Like I wanna know what you taste like.  Like I wanna know what that mouth of yours does when you come.”

Rafael could feel himself dripping.

The man in his grasp was going to kill him.

“And here I thought I was nursing an infatuation with a straight man,” Rafael mused gently, tightening his grip just enough that Carisi let out an unintelligible plea.  

“Not straight,” he gasped.

He smirked.

“Clearly.”

“I’m bi,” he explained, as though this was something he wanted Rafael to know in the moment.  “Christ.  Mostly women for a while.  Until you.”

“Should I be flattered?” he snarked, speeding up.

“God!  God, I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I just want you.  Whatever you want, whatever you’ll give me.  That’s it.”

Rafael was in a giving mood in that exact moment, surprising Carisi with the feel of his tongue licking up the bulging vein of his cock.  He dipped his tongue into the slit, tasted the smooth slick of Carisi’s arousal to the sound of his shocked gasps.   The elation he felt at the sound was nothing compared to the bone-deep groan to emanate from his chest when Rafael took him deep into his mouth.  Carisi’s grip on the arms of his chair tightened, his knuckles white, his lungs heaving.  

Getting Carisi worked up was more satisfying than he’d ever dreamed.

It was no secret how he was feeling.  Rafael could feel every minute tremor as it washed over his body, could hear his chest working like a bellows.  Every murmured blasphemy was music to his ears - a symphony of baleful groans, of grunted curses that stirred him into a frenzy.  Given the opportunity he could probably come just from the feel of Carisi trying not to thrust into his mouth and the sound of his voice in his ear.  

Another time.

Rafael backed away, releasing Carisi from the confines of his mouth and taking a deep lungful of air.  The man made a small noise of protest but he could hardly hold that against him, not when sweat covered his forehead and the look in his eyes was an expression as close to begging as he’d ever seen.  Instead of leaning back in Rafael lifted a hand to grip it at the base of Carisi’s cock, enjoying the small thrust he gave in response.  He gave a few quick pumps, enjoying the sound of Carisi’s flesh slick with his saliva sliding through his fist.  

He set a rhythm.

Built him up.

Slowed.

Tightened.

Sped up.

Let him down.

Added another hand below his first, holding him tight at the base before circling in the opposite direction as his other.  Carisi bucked, his shout echoing into the quiet office.  His grip tightened further, his strokes sped up.  The object of his affection was a writhing mess now, no longer coherent but making himself understood all the same with every cant of his hips and his strong hands reaching out to grab Rafael’s biceps in a hard grip.  If he found himself wearing Carisi’s bruises in the morning, so be it.  He would wear them with relish.

“I love seeing you like this,” Rafael confessed and he didn’t care how rough he sounded.  “I could spend hours in front of you.  Days.  As long as you’ll let me.”

His hands circled.

Sped up some more.

Limited his range to the flared head and the space just beneath it.

Carisi jolted like his touch was a crack of lightning.

The rush of his blood was addictive.

Lust stirred, whipped into a frenzy.

“I love how you look with all that ink under your skin,” Rafael told him.  “I love the idea of you literally bleeding as a show of love.  You astound me.”

“Barba,  _ Barba _ -”

“I know.  I’m waiting for you,” he assured him.  “I’m waiting to see you paint over that ink with white.  Make it cloudy.  Make it so that I have to lick it up to see the flowers again.”

Carisi stiffened.

Shook.

Lifted up off the chair so forcefully Rafael had to lean down on his thighs to keep him stable while Carisi shot through his fingers.  He angled the pulsing length in his hands up and slightly to the side so that every drop splashed across the artwork Rafael had obsessed over the last two weeks.  Carisi poured every drop of himself onto his own torso, until thick white droplets ran down his side and Rafael had the opportunity to track and admire every single one of them.  He’d earned the sight of them.  Had worked for them, willed them into existence.  Once Carisi was done, once he’d exhausted his shaking and heaved in a tremulous breath, Rafael allowed himself to release his hold and lean forward.  He touched a reverent tongue to Carisi’s skin, just above his hipbone where the thickest drop had slid to a stop.

He tasted like heaven.

Sharp, light on his tongue.

Perfect.

“Come here.  Get up here,” Carisi gasped, voice ragged with misuse.  “Please, Barba.  Please come here.”

“What do you want, Carisi?  I’m busy.”

He laved another drop, followed the streak between his ribs.

“You haven’t, let me-”

“In a minute.”

A minute stretched closer to five while Rafael cleaned every inch of Carisi’s skin.  He took his time while Carisi’s heart slowed to a gallop, while his breathing evened out.  While his hands grew antsy and started to wander, caressing up Rafael’s arms and shoulders, rubbing at his upper back and the back of his neck.  Soft touches, wistful and warm in his afterglow.

“Barba…”

Rafael is a weak man.

“Yes?”

“You’re not going to let me touch you are you?” he asked, sullen, and Rafael chuckled darkly against his skin.  “You’re not going to let me do anything for you.”

“You make it sound like none of this was for my own enjoyment,” he said, looking up at Carisi’s flushed face.  

“There’s a difference.  Don’t pretend there’s not.”

“There is,” he admitted, “But I was hoping you’d take me home, detective.  Mine or yours.  I’m not done with you and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Carisi nodded emphatically as Rafael pulled himself to his feet.

He looked down at his handiwork.

Carisi sprawled on his chair.  Exposed, slowly softening with Rafael’s saliva still glistening all over his side.

A sight he could get used to.

“Are you going to move or do I have to pour you out of my chair?” 

Carisi huffed a laugh.

“Give me a minute.  I’m not sure my legs are working yet.”

Rafael smirked.

“Take your time.”

They still had the whole night ahead of them.

 

**…**

 

The third time he sees it, Carisi is in a rush.  

A rush to get undressed, a rush to do his own touching.

A rush to get his mouth on Rafael, to taste him.  To consume him.  To bring him to the edge and back away, pulling the rest of his shirt from his body.  

A rush to sink into him.

A rush to feel.

A rush to have Rafael come so hard his entire body shakes with it.

A rush to whisper utter filth into his ear followed by sweet endearments as he empties himself into Rafael’s still shaking body.

He’s in no rush to leave.

 

**…**

 

The tenth time he sees it, Rafael is riding Carisi so hard he sees starbursts behind his eyes.  It’s early, still dark, and Carisi barely has the time to undress before Rafael is on him.

He was in danger.

It was close.

Rafael holds him closer.

 

**…**

 

The thirtieth time he sees it his hands are on either side of Sonny’s ribcage.  Fingers insistent.  Sonny’s back is against the kitchen counter and his eyes are tired but his hands are young, traveling over Rafael’s body wherever he damn well pleases.  Rafael lets him.  Stares him down.  Mouth smirking, eyes daring.

Daring because he’s told Sonny he loves him.

Daring because the challenge is obvious.

He’s yet to back down from a challenge.

Sonny dares to love him back.

 

**…**

 

When his glimpses of it are innumerable, when he’s memorized every line and border and shade, the tattoo changes.

There’s another flower filled in.

Pale blue and rich purple, the colors of Sonny’s favorite tie.

It brings out his skin, he says.

It also brings out the dark stenciling of his name.

_ Rafael _ .

Their wedding date is written into it, inked into layers of skin that Rafael has worshipped more times than he’s able to comprehend.

He worships this flower the most now.

It’s a technicality, Sonny says.

Rafael was a part of him long before the tattoo ever happened.

Rafael kisses him, deeply, fingers always seeking it out.

Rafael is a weak man.

At this rate he’ll never be strong again.

  
  



End file.
